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Life Singers

Life singers,

Composers of the morning song,

Allow me faith to sing

Tunes cradled when the wind

Whistles down hillside.

 

The dawn comes eager as a two-year child;

Good days I am that child.

It's heaven's breathing stirs cotton clouds,

Lets me sing louder still.

When trees sway to the turning of our planet,

Bending from their hips, limbs over head,

Their sensual beckon

Lets my throat sing out.

 

The city wakes:

Grumbles, honks, and automobiles' blare from

Engine noises

Flense my fears that let go of melodies.

Blind me to grimaces and sneers

From displeased ears,

Welcome my heart's croon

As I share spirits' music

That flows from endless depth and height,

That colorfills my eyes, squeezes sense of touch.

 

I'm running now from door to door

Leave flyers that proclaim the day.

I stand not still enough for any answer.

Ring bell, knock twice, hum "I'm gone."

 

©Timothy Wright

11/25/2014

◄ Morning, Neighbors

Comments

<Deleted User> (6895)

Sat 6th Dec 2014 17:07

Hi again tim.Our choices apply to all three.But when it comes to reading,which we have performed at quite a few community centres,it would be ever so nice if Patricias lovely lilting voice didn't always out do Mr Wildes gravellings!
Oh! says he,for the treacle tones of Mr.Burton!

xx

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tim wright

Fri 5th Dec 2014 13:44

Thanks. I often ask others what gives the better feeling: writing a poem, reading a poem, or hearing a poem. Of course, many dodge making a choice. For me it's writing. You?

<Deleted User> (6895)

Fri 5th Dec 2014 10:44

Hi Tim.This poem has a really nice 'feel' to it.

Enjoyed!xx

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